


"trust me" she said "you'll thank me when i'm dead"

by orphan_account



Series: The Ever Changing Constant Universe [10]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, GTA AU, Hacking, M/M, runaways - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6618298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles is a flower.<br/>Coincidental, really, because that's his constant.<br/>But flowers die and Miles is beginning to wilt, petals falling one by one and drifting slowly to the floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"trust me" she said "you'll thank me when i'm dead"

His first memory is of his constant. He is five years old and there are people moving around him, stepping too quickly in the frantic world. It’s in the display window of a florist shop, a bouquet of flowers, colourful and mesmerizing and wrapped in wax paper. The card under it reads ‘freesia’ in beautiful curly script and Miles knows that it’s his constant. His older sister tugs on his wrist. 

“We’ve got to go, Miles.” She hisses. “Quick, before he realizes that it’s gone.” She clutches a wallet in her other hand.

“That’s mine.” He points to the window and her gaze follows his hand.

“Very pretty.” And then they run, dashing through the streets and weaving around people. This is his his first full memory, but he has fragments, broken pieces, from before. Screaming and crying and his sister clutching him to her chest before the memories flicker and fade and melt like old film tape.

He is eight and she is fifteen and they are dirty, dirty criminals. They steal and cheat and struggle to find their place. They do find it, eventually, and then they’re fighting everyday to keep it.

He is nine and it is late as his sister pushes him into a stolen car. He hums along to songs on the radio that he doesn’t know as his sister drives and drives and drives. He rides for a long time, leaving the grime and dirt of the city behind, letting it fall away and letting trees and flora spring up in its place. When she lets him out of the car, the sky unfolds infinitely above them. There is a field of flowers, his freesia, his constant. He sinks to his knees among them and he gathers them into his arms. His sister sits next to him.

“Freesia means trust, did you know that?” He shakes his head. “Well, they do. And I need you to trust me. Whatever I ask or do, I’m doing it for a reason.”

“Of course.” Miles says and his sister smiles, a soft smile with so much hidden behind it.

“I’ll always be here for you. I promise.” They sit together in the flower fields until the sun rises.

He is twelve and his sister pushes a gun into his hands. 

“You need to learn to use this, okay?” So, she teaches him and he shoots at painted marks in the brick wall until his aim is nearly perfect and he no longer jumps at the sound. He tries to give it back to her, but she shakes her head, gently. “Keep it, you’ll need it someday.”

He is fourteen and he moves into a dingy apartment with his sister. It’s shabby and the ceiling leaks and the floor is uneven, but it’s better than the streets. He keeps his gun hidden under the second-hand sofa they dragged in from a garbage pile, confident that he’ll never have to use it.

He is fifteen and he supplements the income that his sister steals. She reaffirms her promise every night, Miles still believes her, and he stays up for her to get home every night.

He is seventeen and he is waiting for her, curled up on the sofa, but not sleeping. He stays there, waiting, and she doesn’t come. Three days and he is exhausted and and she has broken his promise, his trust, and he cries. It is another three hours before he realizes that he never knew his sister’s name and he sobs more, because this means that if she’s dead somewhere and somehow someone ID’s her body, he will never be able to find her gravestone.

Through his tears, he can hear the door creak open and he falls silent. It’s not his sister, the footsteps are too heavy. He grabs the gun from under the sofa and he shoots once. The body falls to the floor and he doesn’t turn to look. He moves quickly, numbly, packing up what little he has and he clambers down the fire escape and escapes into the night.

There is a freesia on the floor of the bus, crushed and wilted and stepped on. He looks away, but he is drawn towards it again and again. He forces himself off the bus on the coast, sun warm, something he isn’t used to. He gets a small apartment, empty and lonely, with the meager amount of money he has left.

He learns quickly that this city is a crime hub and maybe that explains the pull he felt toward it. He breaks his way into the undercity, pulling grins and making himself intimidating, like a harmless snake, he imitates the hiss and he spits poison he does not have like all the other do and it works. He gets hired. He soon finds out what his strengths are, doing deals and playing mediator. He plays them up and his fangs aren’t so fake anymore. It’s easy and it’s money in his pockets.

There is a kid in a coffeeshop that Miles visits from time to time. He wasn’t planning on going in today, but there was a freesia sprouting on the small plot of earth in front of it. His world tilts when he meets the kid’s eyes and he knows immediately. So, he sits down next to him. There is green text rushing across the screen and the kid hasn’t quit typing. No one is stopping him, so either they don’t know or they don’t care. 

“I’m Miles.” He introduces himself and the kid nods at him. “What’re you hacking?”

“Just letting some people into a building. Those pesky alarms, you know.” He hits one final button and then shuts his laptop. “I’m Kerry.”

“A pleasure, I’m sure.” Miles grins. “You don’t look like a criminal.” Kerry snorts.

“Well, excuse me. We can’t all look like axe-wielding psychopaths, we’d get caught pretty quickly. I’ve killed a few people in my time, not my favourite thing.” Kerry says. “You don’t look like a criminal either.”

“I’m ‘under cover’.” Miles stage whispers, making finger quotes in the air.

They stick to each other after that and it scares Miles because he trusts Kerry so easily after not trusting anything. They do jobs and they get paid and they get a better apartment together. The first thing that Miles does is to put a bouquet of freesias on the table in a crystal vase.

Their life changes in a bar. They’re both drinking, warm and comfortable against each other. A girl with purple hair and a sly smile slides into the booth across from them.

“Hey.” She says and Miles waves back. He’s on alert, tenses and wary. “I know you two.” The bar is loud, no one can hear her speak but them. “I’ve been watching you two and I have an offer. Would you like to join my crew?”

“Why us?” Kerry asks, just as wary as Miles.”

“You’re a great hacker and we don’t have one. We also need a front man, a face we can put out to respective clients. You two come as a pair, and you’re the best I could find.” Miles looks at Kerry.

“Up to you.” Miles says, Kerry tilts his head.

“Are you sure, though?” Miles nods and Kerry looks back at the girl. “Sure. I’m Kerry, this is Miles.”

“I’m Meg.” They leave the bar together. Miles pulls Meg back once they get out the doors.

“You hurt Kerry and you will pay.” And then he’s back to lax and tipsy. He puts an arm around Kerry when he catches up to him.

A chill runs down Meg’s spine, he is dangerous.

**Author's Note:**

> well la de da, there's that thing done.  
> hey hey hey i have something to say. so, i'm non-binary. they/them but please no she/her. like never. just thought i should get that out there. plus, i'm preparing myself to come out to literally everyone I know, so this is nice.  
> you can find me on twitter @RunawayCaboose and message me if you want my personal or not, do what you want  
> still want to take me to a movie? comment!  
> want me to write a character/ship in this universe? comment!  
> have a prompt for me to write? comment!


End file.
